Merry Christmas to Me
by wickedsingularity
Summary: [x-mas stories 2017 #3, one shot] No one's home for Christmas, my plans went to shit, and then the mission didn't even have the decency to drag on. Falling asleep with wet hair all alone in a freezing apartment, great idea. But then...


_wickedsingularity's Christmas Stories 2017_

* * *

The compound was the quietest I had ever seen it. It was almost eerie. I knew no one would be here except maybe the odd guard poking around trying not to be seen, but I didn't expect it to look and feel so utterly abandoned. I stopped by the intersection leading to the training area and the apartment building and took in everything. The lanes between the buildings had been cleared, but it had snowed a bit since then. The tree outside the office building looked festive and cosy, a few of the lights covered in snow and adding to the glow. With the few streetlights littered around and lighting up the paths, it looked pretty. But I wasn't feeling it.

I gritted my teeth and made my way through the cold mass and to the dark apartment building. A panel by the door scanned my hand and with a hiss, the door slid open. It was only the emergency lights littering the hallway, but I knew my way around and could navigate the place in the pitch dark.

When I paused by my own door to scan my hand again, I noticed how cold it was. A shiver ran through me just in time with the door sliding open, and as I stepped inside it was just as cold there. Had they turned the heat down because everyone was gone?

As I walked into my apartment, lights flickered on, but I didn't hear the sound of the heaters starting up. So, I dumped my bag, jacket and boots by the door and walked over to the panel next to the TV. It was one of several panels that controlled the temperature, the apartment wide audio system, timers and motion sensors on the lights, along with a lot of other nifty things that Tony deemed vital to living. But the heat didn't work. And it appeared that F.R.I.D.A.Y. was having a holiday too.

At least the warm water was working, so I decided to take a shower and wash the grime of the mission off. How my wet hair would feel in the cold after, I decided not to worry about. It would dry up eventually. After I had frozen to death.

I turned on the water to let it steam up the bathroom nicely while peeling off my clothes. It had been a very physical mission, and my uniform stunk of stale sweat. When the mirrors were too fogged up to see my reflection, I stepped in under the torrent of warm water and let out an obscene moan. As quick as my tired limbs could, I scrubbed and washed, and then I just stood there. Letting the water cascade down my body, thoughts racing.

Everyone had plans for Christmas. Some were on missions like me, some had gone home to friends and family, and some had even gone away for the holidays. I was supposed to go back to my hometown right after the mission, but those plans had shattered quickly when I got a short text from my parents saying that the whole family would be going across the country to visit some new friends.

I hadn't told anyone. I was heartbroken, of course, but I had hoped the mission would drag on and it wouldn't be a big deal. But it had all gone to plan. And so, I found myself all alone in the compound on the night before Christmas Eve. No heat, nothing but stale bread, cheese and water, and the only Christmas decoration was a string of battery powered multi-coloured fairy lights above one of the windows.

I felt miserable. Clean, but miserable. Merry Christmas to me.

Deciding enough was enough, I turned off the water and stepped out of the shower to dry up. The entire bathroom was fogged up, and I was glad. I didn't want to look at my bruised body or my defeated expression. An idea came over me and I went to close the bedroom door and let the bathroom door wide open, so the steam would warm up the bedroom a bit while I dried up. I was exhausted and even though it was fairly early, I might as well go to sleep before I became even more miserable or cold or hungry.

I rummaged through my closet for a pair of pyjamas and was under the cover and asleep before I could think of how bad it would be for my pillow to have all that wet hair on it.

* * *

It was almost light out when I woke up. The second thing I noticed was how cold my nose was. And then how congested it was. Then I swallowed and felt how scratchy my throat felt. I groaned out loud, which in turn made me almost cough out my insides. And that made me notice how achy my entire body was and how much my head was pounding.

"Good idea falling asleep with wet hair in a cold apartment," I whispered hoarsely to myself as I tumbled out of bed do my morning routine before trying to make some breakfast.

Not having looked in a mirror the previous night, and the only time I'd seen myself during the mission was in a poor reflection in a window four days ago, I didn't know what to expect when I finally did gaze at myself as I washed my hands. That I had grown a beard? A beard would have been preferable. My hair was all over the place, having dried while squashed against the pillow. My eyes were glassy with fever, my nose was as red as Rudolf's, huge bags under my eyes. I looked as miserable as I felt.

I searched my medicine cabinet for something to fight this cold, but there was nothing but cough syrup that had expired six months ago. Feeling that nothing else could go wrong, I found my warmest clothes and went to make breakfast. I should have probably gone out grocery shopping, but in my current condition – coughing, sneezing and shivering – that felt like a bad idea, for everyone else.

Before I turned on the TV to waste my day away, I tried the AI again. "F.R.I.D.A.Y.? Are you there, F.R.I.D.A.Y.?" She didn't answer. Feeling completely abandoned and miserable and as lonely as I could be, I curled up on the couch, flicked through the channels and found some reruns of an old sitcom.

I don't know how long I lay there freezing and surrounded by used tissues when there was suddenly a knock on the door. I started and groaned, wondering who the hell was here at this time of day. Then I checked the time on the TV, realising it was only 1400 hours and that made me groan and cough again. The day was going way too slow.

I had no intentions of answering the door, not that my aching body could manage to untie itself from the knot I had become, or that my voice could carry through the door to whoever it was. But the door opened and I heard someone coming in. There were only two people who I had given full access to, and I knew both of them were supposed to be somewhere else.

"Doll?" The sound of Steve's voice carried in from the small hallway.

I cleared my throat. "What are you doing here?" I didn't bother to mask the annoyance in my voice but was glad my voice sounded better than I expected.

He didn't answer right away and I couldn't see him from my fetus position on the couch, glaring at the TV. But I heard him set down several things on the kitchen counter and started to pull things out of whatever it was.

"You didn't really think I'd let you spend Christmas alone, did you?" There was an awful lot of rummaging in the kitchen, and I had to admit I was curious, but I was too lethargic to look.

"I'm fine alone."

"Sure. I can hear that you're shivering it's so fucking cold in here, and from the look of this kitchen, you haven't eaten since you came home."

"I had breakfast. I'm fine."

There was silence for a few long moments and I tried to shift my focus back on the TV, but my mind could hardly comprehend anything in its fuzzy state other than how freaking cold it was. Then Steve came around the couch and stopped by my feet, looking down at me. A frown blossomed on his face before it turned into a smile. I narrowed my eyes at him.

"As cute as you look with your hands inside your sleeves and your poor attempt at tucking up your collar, your entire body is shivering, you look awful, and you're drowning in tissues. Doll, why haven't you turned the heat on? Or at least found some blankets? Or called me?" He dropped to his knees and pressed his lips to my forehead.

"I'm not gonna get hypothermia from being inside. It's fine."

"It's not fine. You're sick. You're burning up, and while you did a good job at hiding how sick you are in your voice, it's slipping now." Without even waiting for me to reply, he promptly stood up and walked over to the panel that controlled the electronics, muttering to himself about _New York_ and _freezing_ and _gonna die_. Within seconds, I heard the faint buzzing of the heaters coming back on.

"What is that show, anyway?" he asked as he went into the bedroom.

"Cheers," I said as loudly as I could without getting another coughing fit.

He came back and was carrying four blankets, including my pillow. "Fitting. Lift your head." I did as he instructed and the pillow was tucked in under my head.

"Why are you here?"

He folded out the blankets and wrapped me up. "I tried calling you this morning to ask about the mission, but I couldn't get through. Then I called your brother, and... Well, I figured you must be here. You know I could never let you be alone for your favourite holiday."

I felt my throat closing up and it had nothing to do with the cold. But I swallowed it down and just nodded, eyes trained on the TV.

He knelt in front of me again and laid a blissfully warm hand against my cheek. "I bought food. Thought we could make Christmas dinner together and have a quiet celebration just the two of us. But I've changed the plans. I think I have something I can make a soup from. I'll do that, while the apartment warms up, and you try to warm up under these blankets. Then, I'm gonna go out and get you some medicine. Okay?"

I nodded again, not trusting my voice at all.

He kissed me again, on the lips this time. Lingering long enough for me to draw some heat from them. And then he was gone. I suppressed a whimper at the loss of warmth.

The sound of Steve setting up and working in the kitchen was so comforting after hours of just the TV and my stubborn self as company. The blankets were slowly warming me up, the shivering settled and I was beginning to feel drowsy. When Steve sat a bowl of steaming soup on the sofa table, I had almost fallen asleep.

"Come on, doll, I'll help you sit up."

I kicked off the blankets, and set my elbow down on the seat below me and tried to sit up on my own, but fell right down again when a dizzy spell crashed through me.

"Careful," Steve said with a chuckle, completely ignoring the death glare I sent him. He replaced the pillow with a strong arm, held my hand in his other, and slowly tilted me up right. My feet slid to the carpeted floor and I leaned back, amazed at how exhausted I felt.

"Thanks," I mumbled.

"It's just a simple broth, and I left a few pieces of turkey and vegetables in it," Steve explained and sat down next to me. "Didn't want to use up too much of the meat. We're still having Christmas dinner."

I reached for the bowl, using the sleeves of my sweater as protection from the heat. Experimentally, I reached for the spoon, blew on it and tasted. "It's good, thank you."

"Will you be alright while I head out and get you some medicine?"

I nodded with another spoonful in my mouth.

"I'll be back soon. I love you."

Immediately, I missed Steve's presence. Without him, the apartment felt just as cold as before he had covered me in blankets and turned the heat on. To compensate I lifted spoon after spoon of the scorching hot broth to my mouth, feeling the burn down my throat.

Before I knew it, the bowl was empty and I was left with a light burn on my tongue. But my stomach felt full and happy, my nose less congested. The only drawback was that I could now feel the fever and a huge wave of fatigue washed over me.

Setting the bowl back on the table, I fluffed up the pillow, reached for the blankets and laid down to continue watching Cheers. But I soon found myself drifting off, Woody scaring Rebecca with the blender the last thing I remembered.

* * *

Ten minutes, an hour, or 5 days later, I wasn't sure, I woke up to someone lifting my upper body.

"Wha's goin'n?" I mumbled in a thick voice.

"Just me, doll," Steve replied as from far away. As I came to, I realised he had sat down behind me and was arranging me to lay between his legs.

"You're back..."

"Of course I am." He gently moved my hair out of my face. "I've got cough syrup, cough drops, nasal spray, more tissues, Tylenol, some tea the pharmacist said would be good, ointment..." He gestured to the table. It was all there, including a glass of water.

"Thank you, Steve."

I propped myself up on his stomach and reached for the Tylenol, popped a couple in my mouth and drained the glass of water. Then I settled against his warm body, snuggling up to him as if he was a giant pillow. The sound of his heart beating, the gentle rise and fall of his chest and his hands rubbing comforting circles on my back was quickly sending me back to sleep.

"What's going on with your phone?" Steve asked suddenly. "I tried to call to ask if you need cough syrup for dry or wet cough, but I couldn't get through again."

"Oh shit!" My eyes snapped open. "I forgot. It broke a couple of days ago. Haven't had the chance to pick up a new one from the office yet."

"I'll go get you a new one tomorrow."

"And it's wet cough."

"Good thing I bought both types."

We fell silent again. The dark cloud that had lingered over my head since I realised the mission wouldn't drag on until after Christmas, was gone. Steve had come for me and chased it away. It was warm, we were going to have dinner tonight, and then we would sleep in, and open presents whenever we felt like it the next day. It would be a good Christmas after all. I swallowed down the lump in my throat again.

"Thank you for coming back, Steve."

"Anything for my best girl."


End file.
